


Seven Drunken Nights

by IrisPerea2004



Series: Celtic Thunder [3]
Category: Celtic Thunder (Band), Seven Drunken Nights (Song)
Genre: And a Scotsman, Awkward situations, Drunk Men Do Stupid Things, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Gen, Hijinks, Hilarity Ensues, Humor, Implausible Excuses, Implied Sexual Content, Irish Lads, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 13:57:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19319581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisPerea2004/pseuds/IrisPerea2004
Summary: Drunk Men Do Stupid Thing. Hilarity Ensues.Or,A fic written because I was amazed that nobody has done this yet, and it really needed to be done.Inspired by Seven Drunken Nights, and will include all the original lads.





	1. Monday

Y/N was sitting by the darkened window, placidly reading a thick book by the light of the lamps.

The door opened, and Emmet stepped in, dimples twinkling brightly. He swept Y/N up and kissed her soundly. His breath smelled faintly, but not unpleasantly, of alcohol. 

"You're home early," she observed laughingly.

He flashed his dimpled grin at her. "It was gettin' a little rowdy."

She smacked him lightly. "Go on and stable your horse properly, Emmet."

It was a little later in the evening when Y/N heard what sounded like Ryan singing loudly and a little off-key. Coming up her front path.

"Emmet," she said quickly, "come here a moment."

He looked a little confused as Y/N seized his arm, and tugged him nto the bathroom. "Don't come out until you have bathed thoroughly," she said firmly. "You smell of horses and hay."

Then she sped out to intercept Ryan.

He had stumbled in the door, looking a little disoriented. The smell of alcohol was much stronger around him that it had been around Emmet.

"There's a horse oitside the door," he slurred. "Why-Why is there a horse where mine should be?"

Y/N refraind from rolling her eyes, but only barely. She had asked Emmet to put his horse away for a reason...

"Isn't that your horse?" she asked.

"N-No," he said frowning. "I think I walked."

"Then it's just the lovely sow my mother gave me, Ryan, and you needn't worry," she said firmly, and sat him in the chair by the fire. Emmet stepped out of the bathroom, slightly wetter, but much better smelling.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked suspiciously. 

"'Tis only Ryan," she said dismissively. "He was so drunk he thought that this house was his. He's going to have to sleep off his liquor here."

"Oh." He did not seem to give the matter any further thought.


	2. Tuesday

Damian, rather sheepishly, had decided not to go to the pub that night.

"Y/N!" he called, hanging his coat behind the door.

She poked her head out of the kitchen, and smiled broadly when she saw him. "Ah, Damian! I wasn't expecting you tonight."

He winced. "I decided not to go to the pub tonight. Last night was a wee bit embarrassing."

Y/N stifled a smile. "Well, then. Would you care to give me a hand, darlin'?"

The dishes were soon washed and dried, with two hands at work, and a merry contest of voices between them. Y/N loved the way he could switch from tenor to bass in a heartbeat, and frequently accopanied him in duets

Although, perhaps they stayed in the kitchen longer than they should, what with this, that and the other. When Y/N finally looked at clock, she had stifle a sound of surprise.

Her quick ears picked up a sound rather like boots on the garden path, and a low humming. The noise was very faint, and it seemed Damian had not yet heard it.

"Darlin'?," she said breathlessly, "Would you be so kind as to go see if you could coax my tortiseshell car inside? I must feed the others, but she refuses to come inside. She likes you, maybe she'll listen to you."

Looking a little confused, Damian went to the back door, and shut it behind him.

Paul tripped on the threshold of the door, and if Y/N hadn't caught him, it was probable that he would have had a hard time getting up. Visibly rumpled, and messy, his gaze unfocused, and his soft, mellifleous voice was almost slurred beyond comprehension. 

"An' a warm welcome to you," he said, doing his best to focus on Y/N's face. "How is my love farin'?"

"Quite well, in fact. Now, Paul-"

He had shut the door behind him, and now he coat sight of Ryan's coat hanging behind. He reached out, and felt the fabric in his fingers, and then seemed to check his own jacket. 

"This isn't mine," he said.

Y/N looked around nervously. Any second now, Damian was going to come through that door with a purring cat in his arms, and that would be disasterous.

"Don't be silly, Paul," she said impatiently. "It's just a lovely woolen blanket my mother made for me. Now come here."

He obeyed, swaying wildly. "Y'know, I've travelled quite a bit," he slurred."But I have never seen buttons sewn on a blanket before."

"Fascinating," Y/N hissed as she shoved him under the bed. "Don't go anywhere and don't make a single noise."

She was just quick enough to be nonchalantly petting her amiable grey tomcat as he ate by the time Damian came back with the troublesome tabby queen.

"Who were you takin' to?" he asked, suspicious.

"Just my long haired cat," Y/N said innocently.


	3. Wednsday

Wednsday. Again, it seemed, the lads were going out drinking. Y/N scowled down at the rip in the hemming of Ryan's jacket that she was mending. Their livers would all turn to stone before they were sixty if they kept on like this. 

She hummed a scrap of a tune that had somehow embedded itself in her subconscious, as she worked a particularly difficult stitch through the cloth.

Someone knocked smartly on her front door, and with a sigh, she stowed away the jacket beneath the cushions of her chair.

George stood at the door, a slightly boyish grin on his face, and a posy behind his back.

"Here," he said, giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek. "I'm afraid I've been neglecting ya dreadfully."

"Oh, George!" she said softly, giving him a far more suitable kiss. "Come in, please."

Soon, he was sitting by the fire, Y/N in his arms as they laughed and joked and sang snatches of old songs together, their voices varying between George's burr and Y/N's (Y/A). With an arm around each other, they were as warm and happy together as if she had gone to the pub with him, which she heartily disapproved of and never partook i n.

Well around midnight, George left for a few minutes. Almost as soon as he had done so, there was a mild commotion outside, and two young men, absolutely _reeking_ of whiskey and beer stumbled over the threshold. 

Neil was absolutely wasted, and Y/N wondered what powers were keeping him upright, and his brain even mildly ontrack. Damian was slightly more sensible, but only because he lacked the content of perhaps two glasses in his system. They stumbled into the couch where she and George had been sitting and gratefully sank into the cushions, freed from having to walk through a wildly spinning world.

Neil suddenly winced, and wobbled to his feet, holding George's pipe, which he had apparently sat on.

He stared at it, muttering, and trying desperately to focus his eyes. He finally gave up.

"This isn't mine," he said, slurrin so badly it was only through long practice that she had any idea what he was saying. "Why-Wh-Wh-Wh's this pipe here? Who it is?"

Damian, in a faintly clearer voice managed to translate for his further gone friend.

"For goodness sake, you two reek of drink," she scolded. "I would be surprised if you tell the back end of a horse from the front. This just a lovely tin whistle I was given by my mother. Now you just stay here and dry out."

George came down the hallway, and looked at them suspiciously. "They look fair far gone," he observed. 

"You noticed," Y/N said dryly. "They'll have to stay until morning. Sending them out now would be a bad idea."

George looked at them gloomily.


	4. Thursday

Ryan was also apparently feeling guilty over abandoning Y/N for the pubs. As Y/N was tidying up after her solitary dinner, she heard a soft knock at her door. When she opened it, Ryan stood there looking a little embarrassed. It looked like he had freshly combed his hair.

"Can I come in?" he asked sheepishly. "I've rather missed your company."

"You know, I also miss your company sometimes," she said feeling a little waspish. "The last time I saw you, you were so drunk you couldn't stand up straight."

He kicked the rug halfheartedly, like a schoolboy being scolded, and Y/N's heart melted.

"Oh, come here," she sighed, and gave him a hug and a kiss she had fully intended to be brief and chaste, but apparently he had other ideas. From his breath he had clearly had a glass or two, but no more than that. 

When she finally broke away, her cheeks were flushed. "Feeling a little playful, Heartbreaker?" she teased. "Take your muddy boots off by the door."

He gave her one of his famously crooked grins, and began to undo his laces.

She gave him another kiss and went to the back door to call in the cats.

As she coaxed the stubborn queen cat back indoors, she thought she saw someone rather familiar stumbling up the road. She all but ran back inside and shoved Ryan into the bedroom, only just making it before Emmet made it to the door.

He wasn't quite as far gone as Neil and Damian had been, but the smell of a drink too many hung about him.

"Y/N, lovely," he mumbled loudly. "Could you help me with the-"

He stopped. 

"Wha-Whose boots are those?"

Y/N assumed the tone of a mother trying explain to a stubborn two year old that two and two made four. "I think you've had a drop too many, Emmet, You know that those are only those nice pots that my mother sent me."

He blinked, and loked a little doubtful, and mumbled something about lace which she pointedly ignored, and told him to sleep in the bushes if he couldn't walk home, in a slightly acidic tone of voice.

Then she marched back into touse and gave Ryan her most dazzling smile as she sat on the bed.


	5. Friday

Keith showed up with a slightly boyish look on his face that evening. His long blond hair was swept out of his eyes, and his clothing seemed freshly washed, albeit a little wrinkled.

"Hello, my lovey!" he said exuberantly, picking Y/N up and kissing her soundly.

She giggled and allowed his affections.

"Couldn't handle the pubs tonight?" she said half scolding.

"Oh, no. I'm tired of throwing up in the morning," he said ruefully. "In fact, I might have to go to bed early tonight."

"Big, surfing, idiot," she said affectionately, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Maybe," he said mischieviously. "But I'm your surfing idiot."

Keith had not been joking about falling asleep early. He fell asleep around 8:30, slumped uncomfortably on the couch. Y/N took pity on him and helped him to the bed, and tucked him in.

She stood there for a moment, marveling at how much he looked like a little boy. Then she crept back out.

With an air of contentment, the tortiseshel queen settled on Y/N's lap and purred. 

"You're getting a little round, my girl," she said.absently, stroking the patterned fur. 

Y/N quickly lost complete track of time, as the cat on her lap quickly fell into a drowsy contentment.

She started, as the door flew open and the six foot four form of George stumbled into the house. Completely missing Y/N, he shook his head in an attempt to clear it, and stumbled toward Y/N's room.

Y/N shrieked in alarm and threw the cat off of her lap. She barrelled past George and ended up just a little too late.

George's bellow shook the house. He wasn't even trying to yell, it was just that when he was drunk his volume control kind of...broke.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS MAN DOIN'IN MAH BED?"

"It's my bed George," Y/N said calmly. "You're seeing things, George dear," she added briskly. "There's nobody here but you and I."

George blinked and looked at Y/N confused. Keith, no doubt terrified out of his wits, used the opportunity to hurl himself off of the bed and underneath it.

"See?" she said reassuringly.

When he looked back there was nothing but some undone sheets.

Y/N prayed that her explanation had worked, but George seemed to accept it.

"Why don't you lie down and sleep off the drink?" she said reasonably, and pushed him over. "Just go to sleep."

When he was safely ensconced in his slumbers, Keith crept out from under the bed shaking like a leaf.

"What the hell was that about?" he whispered violently.

"I have no idea. Come on, I'll walk you home."


End file.
